Desperate Lasgalen
by Malthoron
Summary: Some soap operas are dramatic and emotional. Others are pointless and pitiful. And alot of them are a mixture of the two. But there are a few that are just plain twisted.
1. Chapter 1

**Desperate Lasgalen**

_Authors' notes: Hello, there. This is Nolitari speaking. Moofin Queen and I have decided _

_author a fic together. _

_She will be writing the even numbered chapters, whereas I will be doing the odd numbered ones._

_I hope you enjoy the first installment of **Desperate Lasgalen**._

_As always, **review!**_

**Disclaimer: We own nothing, of course. It all belongs to Tolkien the Great.**

o-o-o-o-o

Prince Legolas of Greenwood looked at himself in the mirror with a disatisfied face. He had always been so attractive, all of the Elf-maids had drooled over his gorgeous blonde locks that he loved like nothing else. But now, now the Elf-maids didn't drool over him as they used to. They had moved on to Elladan and Elrohir, and if he wasn't mistaken, that Erestor had a few fans. Even Aragorn had fans! It was saddening.

It was a horrible to imagine that such a dull Elf would have fangirls. Why would they leave Legolas? He was such an entertaining and exciting Elf. Why? Because he was _Legolas_! His stories were so much fun to listen to. Who wouldn't want to hear him speaking of the time he slayed twenty orcs with his _bare hands_? Well, obviously the Elf-maids did not..

The Elf-maids did not listen to the story anyway. They just watched Legolas. That was what they lived for. Every single one of them had once hoped to be the future bride of Legolas Thranduilion, and even more, the queen of Greenwood. But at the rate things were going at the time, Thranduil was never going give up the throne.

But now, as Legolas looked at himself in the mirror, he concluded that he was becoming as boring as Erestor. Which was a horrid thing to think of, since he was supposed to be exciting and interesting. But after hearing the orc story more than five times a day, one can realize why the Elf-maids flocked to the others.

_I shall become an interesting and attractive Elf-prince! All shall love me!_

o-o-o-o

_A/N: Oi. That wasn't too bad, right? O.O Please do to tell..._

_-Noli_


	2. Chapter 2

The prince of Mirkwood stood in front of his ornate mirror, admiring his beauty as usual. He was obviously the best-looking person in all of Middle-Earth, and possibly even the Undying Lands. So, where had his Elfmaids gone? He hadn't seen a single Elf of the female persuasion in weeks (though it was often hard to tell the ladies from the men when it came to Elves), and he was about to go insane from the lack of fawning over him.

"My lord?" a household servant timidly poked his head into Legolas's room. "A letter has arrived for you from Imladris."

Legolas took the parchment and unrolled it. The beautiful elven script filled half the page; the flowing letters were written in a neat, precise style that hinted it might be from Lord Elrond himself. Legolas proudly squinted his gorgeous blue eyes at the page, his soft lips moving soundlessly as he struggled through the words. He stopped short, reaching a word he didn't understand. "What in Eru's name is an imbekle?" he asked.

"I believe the word is 'imbecile', my lord," the servant shyly offered, afraid of invoking the moody princeling's wrath.

"An imbecile?" Legolas asked, still not understanding.

"It means handsome, clever, and brave, my lord," the servant lied. Legolas smiled; obviously he was the 'imbecile' mentioned in the letter.

"Fetch Ada for me," Legolas demanded, rolling up the parchment. "I would like to tell him some rather disturbing news."

"I am afraid King Thranduil is not to be interrupted," the servant said.

Legolas's eyes narrowed in annoyance. "What could be more important than the fate of his son?" he said angrily.

"Er, facial reconstruction, Prince Legolas."

"Facial _what_!"

"Reconstruction, my prince," the servant tried to hide a smile. "You father is getting a facelift and a nose job."


	3. Chapter 3

_Author's Notes: Die-hard Legolas Fangirls, if you do read this, don't search out Moofin Queen and I as to have our heads for a trophy. Thank you._

o-o-o

"WHAT?"

Came the expected shout of Legolas. Like his father, he had such a bad temper. Once his aunt (twice removed on his father's side) had tried to send him to Lothlórien to cool his bad moods. That ended in disaster. As usual.

"His...procedure should be done in a few hours, my lord." said the servant calmly. When handling with unstable princelings, one had to remember to keep calm. Otherwise he could fire you, put you in a dungeon, and starve you if one lashed out at the said princeling. Or he could use you for target practice. (Which wouldn't be very nice, now would it?) "You may stay in the waiting room until he is finished, if you wish, Prince Legolas."

Legolas agreed with a nod of his perfectly braided blond head. Before exiting his elaborately decorated bedchambers, he snatched up the eloquent letter from Lord Elrond, as well as a pocket sized hand mirror (you never knew if those were split ends or your eyes were fooling you). One he had gathered the few things that might keep him occupied for a good three hours at least, the princeling followed the servant to the hospital wing of the underground halls.

Walking faster than the Elf who was leading him to the Mirkwood Medical Centre, he didn't notice the glass doors seperating the hospital from the hallway. Anyone could make that mistake. Right? Surely more than one Elf had run into those perfectly clean doors.

Or maybe it was Legolas alone.

If you haven't understood what has been said, the blond princeling walked straight into glass doorway.

The receptionest Elves looked at the door in silence as he stumbled backward, then burst out in uncontrolable laughter. Although once Legolas _opened _the door, the Elves imeaditly quieted down, but with smiles and silent chortles upon their faces. (None of them wished to become target practice.)

Legolas was quite upset. It wasn't nearly noon and he had already humiliated himself. No doubt the Elves would keep the marks on the glass and mock him as the day grew old. Well, perhaps looking at one's beautiful self would make one feel better. So that is what he did.

"Hello, handsome. Aren't we having a good hair day?" the princling said quietly into the mirror, as if it would speak back to him with a reply of, 'oh yes, my lord, you're too beautiful. I'm not worthy!', but we all know inanimate objects cannot speak. (If it could, it would probably say something sarcastic and cold. How would YOU like to look at the face of a self-centered prince for your whole mirrored life?)

Amidst Legolas's admiration of himself, and supposed worry for his dear old dad, two Mirkwood guards silently and swifty walked into the waiting room, with a couple of the LSP (Lothlórien Secret Police) trailing behind.

"Prince Legolas," one guard began. "These two would like to speak with you."

"Can't you see I'm busy?"

The two guards exchanged annoyed glances.

"My lord, they're here to _arrest_ you. For the 'assassination' attempt on Lord Celeborn."

Legolas stood up immeaditly. "I had no idea he was deathly allergic to peanut shells! If so, I wouldn't have thrown them at him!"

That little incident happened when his twice removed aunt had escorted him down to Lothlorien. Low and behold, the tempting peanut shells get the better of all of us.

Secret Agent Haldir held out his Lothlórien police badge. "Prince Legolas, if you'll come with me..."

Oh no, that wouldn't do. "NO! YOU CAN'T MAKE ME! ADA!"

"Please, Prince Legolas...don't make this difficult."

"Haldir, do we need the tranquilizers?"

"Probably...got a shock collar?"


	4. Chapter 4

_See these fun little squiggly letters? That means it's me, Moofin Queen, talking. So, if you don't care about what I have to say, you can skip down to the more normal-looking letters, and get on with the story. Anywho, I'm sorry this chapter has taken so long. Life has been crazy-go-nuts, and I swear my teachers have been conspiring to make my brains a splode. But they cannot stop me! Bahahaha!_

Disclaimer: The only thing I own is my Gimli mug, my obsession with Malthoron, and power-tool fetish. So… don't sue me. Or Mary-Sue me. Both are bad.

o-o-o

Once the Lothlorien Secret Police had Legolas secured (and by secured, I mean strapped to a gurney) they moved him to a super-secret, utterly impenetrable LSP hideout. Translation: the back room of a lembas stand.

Secret Agent Haldir slammed his fist on the table, causing the young princeling to shriek and jerk backward so hard the chair he was strapped to topple over. Once they had set Legolas aright again, another agent took Haldir aside for a brief talk, during which Haldir looked rather put out. He stood off to the side and sulked while the other agent, Secret Agent Rumil, approached Prince Legolas.

"I apologize for his behavior," Rumil said, nodding toward Haldir, who was muttering under his breath. "He gets all worked up, you know." Legolas simply ignored Rumil, as if he were beneath him. Which, technically, he was. But, Elven politics aside, it probably was not wise for Legolas to treat the LSP in such a way, especially when he was strapped to a chair.

"I assume you know why you have been detained…" Rumil continued. If Legolas's treatment of him bothered the agent, he didn't show it. "Lord Celeborn does not appreciate assassination attempts, and you have yet to apologize for your behavior."

"How was I supposed to know he was allergic to peanuts!" Legolas demanded, his gorgeous eyes flashing in anger. "Besides, it was all a big misunderstanding."

"Nevertheless, Lord Celeborn fears for his safety," Rumil continued. "He wishes to speak with you directly."

"Here? Now?" Legolas looked around the dingy room, as if he expected the Elf lord to jump out from behind a crate, or somesuch.

"Yes. Here and now," Rumil replied, and nodded toward Haldir. Haldir, still a bit upset at not being able to interrogate his prisoner, mumbled as he went out the door. Legolas took this opportunity to look around him, and he noticed a boxcutter have been left lying on a small crate near his hands. On the crate, by miraculous coincidence which could only have occurred by an author's twisting of reality, also lay a staple gun.

Haldir returned a few moments later with Lord Celeborn, who bestowed his best gracious, condescending smile upon the incredulous Elven prince. "Elen síla lumenn' omentielvo," Celeborn said, all forgiving benevolence. "I come only to work out our differences, mellonamin.

"Is that why you sent your brute squad after me, _mellonamin_?" Legolas put a sarcastic emphasis on the word, spitting it out as if it were distasteful.

"I can understand your obj-" Celeborn began, but was cut off when Legolas cut his bonds and grabbed the staple gun. "Nobody move!" He shouted, moving toward the door. Rumil held a sputtering Haldir back, fearing exactly what Legolas was planning on doing with the staple gun. Legolas made it outside, and the other three followed him cautiously. Suddenly, Haldir broke free and charged at Legolas. Celeborn tried to get out of the agent's way, but Legolas panicked and fired the staple gun many times before Haldir managed to tackle him.

Rumil was quick to his lord's side. Celeborn was standing rather close to a large tree, and it only took the Elf lord a few moments to realize his predicament. "That dolt stapled me to a tree!"


End file.
